


A Sorta  Fairytale

by bessmertny



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: ARE TOO SWEET, F/M, and ofc i've put a tiny nessian in it who do you think i am, hahahaha, this two
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-05
Updated: 2016-07-05
Packaged: 2018-07-21 17:29:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7396795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bessmertny/pseuds/bessmertny





	A Sorta  Fairytale

“What’s the name of this flower?” she asks, turning to him. He looks at the red and white petals for a moment before answering, “Whiteryver.”

They are taking a stroll in the gardens of the Spring Court, now that the war is finally over they decided that is time to properly know each other.

They are always drawn to each other anyway.

Every time he sees her, Lucien is torn between doing what his gut tells him to do and what he knows it’s right. But her smile is still hesitant and he would never risk doing something stupid and-  
He knows she was about to marry a man, perhaps even loved him, and Lucien knows enough about how it feels when the person you love is forcefully taken from you and he would never make it worst, especially not to her.

So they talk, and the words flow so easily between them that he is happy for the fact that she considers him a friend enough to tell him about her past, about the guilt she feels for not helping Feyre, about the loneliness in that Cottage, about Nesta’s ever present rage.  
They talk about the man she wanted to marry and how she thought that was _love,_ but now she’s not so sure.  
They talk about Hybern and he takes her hand, stroking gently.  
The topic shift, and he debates on telling her about his lover, but her sincerity and how she confided in him- he should do the same.

He tells her, his voice steady and cold speaking of it like it’s just a fact, something that happened and will never be changed and that’s how it is.  
Like it wasn’t the worst thing that has ever happened to him.

She grips his hand, her hold strong as he lowers his head, the shame and guilt and sadness like a rope around his neck that no matter how many centuries pass, will never go away, never loosen.

Elain moves and for a terrible moment he thinks she will go away, living him there and never look back and this time Lucien knows he _won’t_ -

But she hugs him, hugs him so tight to her, her hands around his torso and her little hand grasping his shirt.

There’s nothing he can do to stop the sob coming out of his throat and she hugs even harder and he can’t remember the last he cried, the last he let himself be vulnerable and to feel, the last he didn’t have to hide behind a smirk.  
“It wasn’t your fault”, her voice his muffled on his chest and the words hit him.

This is the first time someone tells him that.

He hugs her back, trying to accept what she’s saying, trying to not object.

“I bet she wants you to be happy.”, she whispers, and Lucien is beyond words and tears are still streaming down his eyes but they’re different from the tears he always cried for her, for what they did to her, his lover with the only fault of loving him, of not being the High Fae his family wanted her to be.  
Elain moves but doesn’t leave him and he can’t help but smile when she hooks her pinkie with his.

As Lucien see the faint red staining her cheeks and looks at Elain, _Elain_ , he sees the person that she is, this beautiful, kind and lovely woman and he knows that regardless of the mating bond, he’s falling in love with her.

He watches the sun playing on her hair and he thinks-He can let his lover go.  
She will always have a place in his heart but maybe he can learn to remember her as the person she was instead of only recalling those fatal last moments.  
He will build her a tombstone and him and Elain will bring her the most beautiful flowers and Lucien will learn to celebrate her life, the love they shared and he will learn to live and love again.

Lucien takes a step toward Elain and it feels like healing.

  
\------------------------------

They are in Velaris, at the big celebration held for the rebuilding of the city after the war.  
He got to know Rhysand and his Inner Circle, surprised by how kind they are to him since he came fully expecting the worst.

All of them are in the Rainbow and he can hear the laughter and chattering of the people around him and he can see Feyre and Rhysand walking hand in hand.  
He’s happy to see how radiant Feyre is, even if the thought of her as High Lady still makes him want to laugh at how life is unpredictable.

“Would-would you like to come to a shop with me?” Elain asks him, stuttering a bit.  
He nods, a little dumbstrucked by the fact that she is asking him. She could take him anywhere she wants and he wouldn’t complain, wouldn’t think of it.

So they start to depart from the others and Lucien notices the sharp movement of Nesta’s head, his blood runs cold when she looks like she’s about to open her mouth but, luckily for him, Cassian appears out of nowhere and scoops his mate in his arms, laughing at Nesta’s surprised scream.  
The man turns to Lucien, giving him a smirk and a nod in Elain’s direction before he says something in Nesta’s ear, opens his wings and shoots himself and his mate in the sky.  
Lucien thanks the Mother for Cassian’s general existence.

Lucien and Elain walk as she guides them to the shop, hand in hand and he’s amazed on how natural it feels, like they’ve been doing this for centuries.

So this is the Night Court, he thinks, and it couldn’t be more different from what he imagined, from what he knew.

Elain is making small talk with the shop keeper, a petite black haired woman and he loves how Elain smiles, how the words are an excited rush and so sincere, there’s no trace of the malice and hidden intent he got so used to when he was an emissary.

He realizes he’s been staring when Elain tugs on his hand to bring him in the conversation.  
The shop keeper smiles at him, as if the source of his distraction-how he could spend every damn day of his eternity watching Elain do, well, _everything_ \- is written in capital letters on his face.

They say their goodbyes to the woman and start to lazily walk across town when Elain shouts “A falling star!”

It’s not one star, they’re more than Lucien can count and they don’t exactly look like stars to him.

“I don’t really think they’re normal stars, Elain.”

He loves to say her name.

 _E-la-in_.

He never heard of making a wish when you see a fallen star and he knows it must be some human tradition but he-

He doesn’t see why wish on something when you can make it happen.

So he kisses her.

For a moment they both stand there but a soft gasp escapes her mouth and he doesn’t know what to do, he’s three hundred years old and he’s mind is blank.

She is the one moving, she tugs on his shirt, a tiny nearly imperceptible movement, but it’s enough.

He slowly brushes his tongue on her bottom lip and he nearly dies when her tongue meets his.

It’s a slow, gentle kiss and Lucien feels like melting.

When they part she hides her burning face in his chest and he kisses her forehead. He can feels her smile blooming on his skin.

She starts to walk in front of him, holding his hand, _always holding his hand_ , and Lucien has the time to marvel on her radiant smile before her lips meet his again. It was no more than a quick peck on his lips but it leaves him with his eyes wide and an incredulous smile.  
Elain’s cheeks are red and a little joyous giggle escapes her lips, to him it sounds like happiness.

  
\---------------------------------------------

“Elain? Can I come in?” Lucien asks, gently knocking on her door.  
He hears the sound of sheets and quick footsteps before she opens the door.

Her hair are a mess and she has the lines of the pillow on her face and there’s a big smile on her face and Lucien’s heart sings at the sight of her.

“I bring food.”, he announces grinning.  
“Thank you.” She answers, going on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek. She takes him by his elbow and brings him to her bed when she sits, patting a spot near her and he sits there.

He knows there’s no malice in this but being here, on her bed where her scent is so strong.

He can do this.

Lucien smiles at Elain and watches as she eats, taking small bites of the food.

She opens her mouth, as if to offer him food, but then retreats. He smiles at her again, understanding. If she wants more time, that’s what he’ll give her.

“What are your plans for today?” he asks, and she thinks about it for a while before answering “We could go to the Theatre, they have a very beautiful play this week.”, she places the half empty tray on the nightstand.

Not _I_.

Not _You_ and _I_.

 _We_.

Lucien closes his eyes for a moment, trying to leash the happiness that threatens to get out of him. He search her hands and brings it to his lips, kissing her knuckles, his heart skipping a bit at her sharp intake of breath.

His eyes snap open, scared he crossed a line and almost certain of it when her hand moves, her thumb gently stroking the scar tissue under his eye.

“That _bitch_.”, she mutters and he is stunned by the hate in her voice, the angry gleam in her eyes. It’s something that he rarely sees coming from her and always surprises him.

He is overwhelmed by the need of having her lips on his. He grips her hips, molding in the kiss and holding her a little closer and the bed moves under them.  
They are so close he can feel her curves on his body the proximity of her makes him shiver.

She grips him and they both fall, their heads landing on the pillows like they slept together and are now waking up.

They laugh, their faces so close he could count her eyelashes if he wanted. They both move in the same moment and their lips meet half way, his hand in her hair.

Her hand grips his hip and the contact isn’t muffled by the fabric of his shirt, that is now rumpled up to his ribs, it’s skin on skin and he feels her touch in skin, his flesh, his bone.

He bites back a moan.

She withdraws her hand, blushing furiously.

“I’m-I’m sorry Lucien, I didn’t mean to-”

He grips her hand and places it under his shirt, in the middle of his chest. She spreads her fingers, like she wants to touch all that she can.

Lucien rises and takes off his shirt and her hand stays.

He caresses one of her cheeks with his knuckles and looks her in the eyes.

“We don’t have to do anything if you don’t feel ready or don’t want to. But don’t apologies if you want to touch me, you can touch me where you please. _I’m yours._ ”, he says and he means it.

She looks at him, a stunned look on her beautiful place. Then, her face hardens, like she just took an irrevocable decision and her arm moving above his head toward her nightstand.

There’s a cookie in her hand.

“I-I know it’s not much, but I can’t cook.”

His heart stops.

“Elain.”

“And-and it’s fine if you don’t want it or if you want more time. I respect it. But I-I’ve tried to imagine myself without you and I can’t and more-more than that, I don’t want to.”, she says in a rush, her eyes cosed as if she doesn’t want to see his reaction, her small fingers clasped around the cookie.

“Elain.”, he calls her name again, trying to speak around the lump in his throat.

“Elain, look at me.”, his voice low and gentle. She slowly opens her eyes and he dives to kiss her and then rests his forehead on hers.

“Are you sure?”, he asks. Lucien doesn’t her to have regrets, to choose him only out of the spur of a moment, to-

“Lucien, eat the damned cookie.”

And he laughs, which is strange because he is crying but it’s a new set of tears, joyful ones.

He takes the cookie from her hand with reverent grace and eats it so fast he almost chokes on it.

He feels their bond settle, he feels it as it becomes stronger, unbreakable, eternal.

Her smile is radiant and there are tears of happiness in her eyes and he hugs her and she hugs him back just as fiercely and they pass the day in her bed, cuddling and kissing, the smell of cinnamon and flowers in the air.

\--------------------------------------------------

  
The problem, Elain muses, is not Lucien.

It’s her.

She remembers how easy it was with the boy she was supposed to marry, wanted to marry, it was simple with him and she liked him well enough to think it was love.

She could breath in his presence, think coherently and her blushing was contained to a reasonable amount, and she sure didn’t want to touch him everywhere or kiss him until her lungs cry for air.

Elain has experience, even if it surely pales compared to Lucien’s but that isn’t the problem. The problem is how she feels around him, all this feelings that are so _strong._  
The need to protect him that she feels-and she hopes she never finds herself in a room alone with Tamlin because nothing will stop her from slapping him across the face, hard-, how she wants to love his pain away, how she wants him.

Sometimes she surprises herself, her thoughts so improper she wonders what he would think of her if he knew. She can still feel the warmth of his skin under the palm of her hand.

There’s a flash of red and she knows it’s him, Since she accepted the bond everything that has to do with him is amplified and Elain _love_ s it.

He smiles at her and takes her in his arms, making her swirl a bit and she’s more happy than she’s ever been.

“Hello”, he says, his hand cupping her jaw and kissing her.

Elain tries to understand when exactly she fell in love with him. With every part of him, his scars, his sorrow, his courage and selflessness.

All of it.

“Hello yourself,” she says and she knows she is beaming, but she can’t help it. He makes her happy and she wants him to know it.

He needs to know he’s loved, she needs him to know that she’ll be there, whatever happens she’ll be there, even if he had to pass through all the courts in Prythian, she’d love him, even if he had more scars, she’d love him.  
She wants him to know how bad she feels when he has a nightmare and she wants to go to him but doesn’t, scared she’ll step a line.  
She wants to be the person he goes to, she wants to be the person he rolls to in bed at night when he can’t sleep.

“Do-do you want to go to the gardens?” she asks. He offers her is arm “I’d love to.”

They talk, and he makes her laugh again and again with his sarcastic comments and jokes. When they reach a clearing they sit on the ground and Elain is basically perched on his lap.

“Lucien, I-” she starts. Elain takes a deep breath and his brows knit together, a concerned look on his face.

“Is something wrong?” he angles his head, looking in her eyes, “Elain?”

She takes another deep breath.  
She can do this.  
She _wants_ to do it.

She gently takes his face in her hands and stroking her thumb along his jaw and look in his mismatched eyes.

“I love you.”, she says and her voice is sure and steady and she smiles.

“Lucien, I love you.”

His lower lip is trembling and his russet eye is watering

“Elain, Mother, Elain.”

He puts his hands on hers and lowers his face.

“ _How can you-I don’t-You can’t seriously want-_ ” he’s rambling and the sadness in his voice, the hate he still feels for himself are things she will not stand for.

She grips his face a little harder and makes him look at her.

“No. You don’t get to tell me that I shouldn’t love you or all the reasons why you think you don’t deserve it, because I love you and you deserve to be loved and so much more, Lucien.  
You can say what you want, can use all the wicked words you know but it won’t change what I feel, so accept it.”

She breaths and he looks like he is about to break, which is the last thing Elain wants.  
Elain doesn’t close her eyes like she desperately wants to, she doesn’t recoil, doesn’t move an inch.

Lucien moves, taking her in his arms and he is shaking and she uses all the strength she has to pull him to her, to keep him together.

“Elain, Elain, Elain,” he’s chanting her name, “I love you too, how couldn’t I, you’re perfect-”

They kiss and kiss, a stream of love words coming out of both their mouths.

When he lowers her down on the grass, the clearing is full of flowers.

  
\-------------------------------------------------

  
They started sleeping together a week ago, after while talking, mostly cuddling, they both fell asleep in her room.  
The next night they went to sleep in their respective rooms but Elain couldn’t sleep and she knew why.  
She went in the corridors in the dead of the night to go to his room only to find him in the corridor, on his way to hers.

When Elain wakes up she is blessed with the sight of a sleeping Lucien. His hair got free from the braid in which he keeps it at night, his pillow a sea of red. He would seem like a painting, Elain thinks, if his hair weren’t a complete mess.  
She smiles, delighted by the peaceful look he has in his moment and how is body is relaxed, her eyes trail lower, to the strong column of his throat, to his muscled chest and to his toned abdomen, visible under his thin shirt.

She goes to his face in time to see a smile form.

“Good morning, love.”, his voice is low and ruff from sleep and first thing he does is kiss her, a sweet and gentle morning kiss.

Elain wants to know _exactly_ how sweet Lucien is.

She kisses him back, then kisses his chin, his throat, and down, and down.

“Elain.” , his voice is strained and her name sounds like a question.

Elain knows she is blushing furiously, but doesn’t relent.  
  
She only stops at the hem at the hem of his pants and looks up at him because she wants to be sure he wants it too but Lucien’s breathing is ragged when he says “I’ve already told you once, love. If you’re waiting for my permission than yes, you have it, Elain, _please._ ”

She must admit that she loves to hear him ramble more than she should.

Elain slowly lowers his pants and he lifts his hips to help her and she can see how hard he is, straining the fabric of his underwear.

She kisses his shaft and he hisses and Elain, feeling a little bit bold, licks the full length of him above his underwear and he arches his back and he’s hands are grasping the pillow so hard his knuckles are white, his mouth, his full red lips are open in a gasp and he’s so beautiful Elain is taken aback for a moment.

She goes up to him for a kiss, her hair falling on his chest, but the kiss is short lived and she’s going down on him again and she wills her hands to stop shaking as she pulls down his underwear.

Lucien is looking at her with anticipation and wonder and when she licks him from root to tip he nearly falls off the bed.

“Oh Mother” he says, his voice breathless and she takes him in her mouth, sucking gently on the tip of his cock and he moans openly and wantonly and the sound makes her whimper around him.

She sees how his muscle s flex, how he buries his head in the pillow when he arches his back and he’s so breathtakingly beautiful.

Elain wraps her hand around his cock and pumps, up and down and he writhes as she bites softly on his hip.

“Elain, love, I’m going to come, I’m-”, she puts her mouth on him again before he can finish the sentence. His orgasm hits the roof of her mouth.

He really is sweet.

She goes to him and Lucien takes her in his arms and kisses her, his naked skin on the fabric of her nightgown.

“You nearly killed me there, love.” He says, kissing her temple.  
“Did I?” she asks, her face a mask of smug innocence.  
“Oh, you certainly did. You surprised me. Let’s see how well I can return the favor, shall we?”

He does it and he does it more than well.

_He does it and does it and does it._

  
\---------------------------------------

  
This is the third dress she tries.  
The third dress to get thrown on their bed while she sighs, unsatisfied.  
She tries another one, a lacy dress in a deep shade of green that is tight enough without being too revealing.

“This is my favorite.” Lucien is standing with is back on the threshold, there’s a smile on his face and a gleam in his eyes.

“You like it? I’m not very fond of it.”

He goes behind her, his hands on her stomach, pushing her into him.

“I’ll like everything as long as you’re in it.” He says, and kisses her neck.

Elain watches their reflection in the mirror, the red staining her cheeks, his mouth moving on her neck.

“But I sure would like to see this dress on the ground.”, a whisper in her ear.

She feels as he goes hard and she turns to him, to kiss him properly and she doesn’t even know how it happened but suddenly they’re on the bed and her dress is the first to go, followed by his tunic and the meeting they should attend becomes utterly trivial.

There’s no need for words, no need for asking what they both already know, no need to ask about something that grew and grew from the day Elain’s life ended and begun until it reached this moment.

Elain nods at Lucien and that’s all they both need.

She feels every inch of him as he enters her slowly and it feels like eternity, it feels like a promise.

She gasps and moans and whimpers as his thrusts hit exactly where she needs it and she feels her orgasm raising and he takes her hand in his guiding them on his heart and the only sound in the room is the one of their bodies meeting.

Hey kiss more fiercely as his thrust become erratic and she hooks her free hand around his neck and he presses his lips to hers and he moans, deep in throat as he comes inside her but doesn’t stop and after three more sharp movements of his hips Elain comes, a soft sound escaping her lips, his name.

 _Lucien_.

He rolls to the side, his arms enveloping her as much as she does it to him with her own arms.

Elain is smiling so hard her cheeks hurt but she sees the same expression on his face.  
She feels their bond, a living, breathing thing between them and Elain strokes it gently, lovingly and feels Lucien shiver.

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
